


Early Morning Surprise

by tiger_moran



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1290565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moran wakes Moriarty up to give him a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Morning Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Something I found in my 'deleted scenes' file, the bulk of it was written months ago but I finally finished it.

    “What are you doing, Moran?” the professor enquires as Moran slides over him. He opens one eye.

    “I thought you might be in the mood for a little fun, sir.” Moran straddles Moriarty’s hips whilst leaning over to press light kisses to the professor’s throat.

    “Oh did you?” Moriarty says, closing his eye again.

    “Yes sir.” Moran slides his hand down to lift the edge of Moriarty’s nightshirt.

    “Mm, well…” Moriarty contemplates this momentarily, coming to a decision not to stop Moran when the colonel wraps his strong hand around Moriarty’s length. When Moran pauses Moriarty opens both eyes and regards him. Moran is clearly seeking permission to proceed, so Moriarty nods, and Moran smiles.

    “I thought we could try something different,” he says.

    “How presumptuous of you.”

    “I reckon you’ll like it.”

    “Do you now?”

    “I do.” Moran grins at him as he stretches over and catches the vial of oil in his right hand.

    “Moran.” Moriarty narrows his eyes.

    Moran is still grinning at him. “Are you worried, sir?” he says, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

    “Not at all, just wondering precisely what you’re up to.”

    “Wait and see, sir.” Moran pours a little oil into his cupped palm and uses it to slick the professor’s length, stroking slowly from root to tip and then back again. His hand and the oil are both pleasantly warm and the movements soon begin to achieve a reaction.

    “What are you plotting, Sebastian?”

    “This.” Moran wipes his oily hand on a handkerchief and then shifts further, up Moriarty’s body, lifting himself up and reaching behind him to grasp the professor’s prick, guiding the head of it towards his entrance.

    “You have…?” Moriarty breaks off as his cock enters Moran, not easily, precisely, but with much less difficulty than he had anticipated.

    “Yes sir, I prepared myself for you, so I could surprise you.”

    “You prepared yourself without my permission?”

    Moran rolls his eyes slightly. “I don’t think, Professor, you understand the nature of a _surprise_.”

    “Hmm, well… don’t do it again.” Moriarty watches Moran intently as he settles himself down slowly into position, observing and recording all of Moran’s reactions as he is slowly penetrated: each bite of his lip; each faint grimace of pain; his little sigh when he’s finally seated atop the professor’s lap. “That cannot be comfortable, surely.”

    “It’s fine.” Moran puts his tongue tip between his lips, an unconscious gesture made when he’s concentrating that Moriarty has always been fond of.

    “You’re sure?” Moriarty says, moving his hands to Moran’s sides, lightly brushing his fingers up and down Moran’s ribs. Moran is fully hard though, so obviously any discomfort is either not concerning him or is only heightening his pleasure.

    “I’m not a baby.” Moran shifts slightly, flashing the professor a sly smile while he does so, knowing that his wriggling will serve to stimulate Moriarty further.

    This is new to the pair of them – Moriarty has never had anyone sit astride him like this while he penetrates them, nor has Moran ever been taken in such a position before. The weight of Moran’s body atop his is novel, the professor thinks, and the position does mean that Moran has rather more control over the act than Moriarty would ordinarily give him. It is not unpleasant though. In fact when Moran shifts so that he carefully lifts himself off Moriarty’s prick a little way, then settles back down, it’s extremely pleasant. Moriarty determines then to test Moran’s reactions a little and remind him that he does not have all the power here, so, grasping Moran’s hips, he thrusts up sharply.

    Moran grunts and bites his lip again. In this position it is rather harder than usual to relax his inner muscles, but he lets out a hiss of pleasure when Moriarty thrusts up into him a second time.

    “Did I hurt you?” Moriarty asks in a sweet tone.

    Moran grins crookedly at him. “Yes, but do feel free to do it again.”

    Moriarty laughs and shifts his hands back up Moran’s sides. Something about seeing Moran there, crouching over him in that predatory way, yet while his body is being breached by the professor, is extremely… _interesting_.

    Moran leans forward now, so that his face is close to Moriarty’s and his own hard length presses against the professor’s abdomen. Resting part of his weight on his arms now rather than solely on his knees, his hands placed on the bed either side of the professor, he slowly begins to shift rhythmically, so that the professor is effectively thrusting in and out of him whilst Moran controls much of the movement.

    Moriarty’s hands are on Moran’s back now, his fingers tracing over the scarred skin, shifting down to Moran’s buttocks briefly. _Predatory,_ he thinks again; Moran still looks predatory, and yet Moriarty has tamed this wild tiger just enough to keep him in check; to gain his loyalty and affection.

     He moves a hand up to the back of Moran’s neck, tugging him into a kiss – a rough one to match the rough thrusts. Obliged to lean forward then, Moran braces himself against the bedstead, gripping the cool metal either side of Moriarty’s head, continuing to ride the professor whilst simultaneously kissing him.

    “James,” he breathes, between kisses. “ _James_.” And it’s obvious then who is in control here, that Moran may be literally on top but he is rapidly losing himself in the sensations, giving himself up to Moriarty. Despite any lingering discomfort from the position he is clearly not going to last long at all.

    Moriarty continues to kiss him, possessively so, barely allowing him to breathe, but Moran kisses back hungrily, eagerly, _desperately_ , even. Moriarty grips Moran’s hips tightly and bucks up into him, pressing himself deeper within his lover, into the exquisite inner warmth of him. For a few minutes they are perfectly in tune, mouths pressed together, lips to lips and tongue against tongue, with Moriarty thrusting up into Moran while Moran bears down on him. But with a greater sense of urgency as orgasm approaches for both of them comes the break in the rhythm. Moran is strong but it takes a great deal of effort to maintain this position and Moriarty can feel him trembling now from the exertion as he strives to get closer and closer until…

    Moriarty moves one hand to Moran’s length, curling his fingers around it, pumping it once, twice, three times until Moran tenses and shudders, his eyes screwed shut, his inner muscles contracting around the professor’s cock, then with a strangled cry he spills into the professor’s hand. Moriarty thrusts up twice more before he too comes, letting out a sharp cry which he smothers against Moran’s mouth as he spends into him, his eyes shut just as tightly as Moran’s.

    For several moments there is only their panting breaths and the racing of their hearts, before both finally open their eyes and meet each other’s gaze.

    “God, James,” Moran says, sliding himself forward a degree, so that he may press his forehead against Moriarty’s for a few seconds while both of them try to get their breath and heart-rates under control. “Was it good for you too?” he asks, laughing.

    “Yes, it was very good for me.” Moriarty smiles up at him before allowing Moran to incline his head and kiss him again, softer now, a kiss where their noses bump gently together before their lips meet. Moran, remaining straddling the professor, is still trembling from the effort of his movements, and Moriarty too feels a little shaky, although pleasingly sated. Aside from the usual mess, he thinks this has been a most intriguing experiment.

     Moran leans over him and grabs his handkerchief off the nightstand, using this to wipe away the worst of the mess from them both. They’ll need to get washed properly in a while but it can wait a few minutes. Tossing the handkerchief aside he slips off Moriarty and settles beside him, wincing slightly as he lies on his back.

    “You are all right?” Moriarty asks.

    “I’m fine.”

    “If it was too uncomfortable for you we need never try it again.”

    “Course we should.” Moran snuggles against Moriarty’s shoulder. “It weren’t too bad, and I reckon it’ll get easier the more we do it too.” He slips his hand under Moriarty’s nightshirt, wanting more skin-to-skin contact, running his fingertips idly up the professor’s abdomen, up to rest his hand over Moriarty’s heart. “We could try it again in half an hour or so.” He grins wickedly up at the professor, and now it’s Moriarty’s turn to roll his eyes.

    “You and your stamina.”

    “You like it.”

    “And your one-track mind.”

    “You like that too.” Moran closes his eyes again and smiles with smug satisfaction when the professor chuckles.

    “Yes,” Moriarty says, “I suppose that I do.”


End file.
